


my fading supply

by marvellingyou (tourmalinex)



Series: Sufjan Stevens Inspired Fics [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Canonical Character Death, Catholic Steve Rogers, Catholicism, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Parent Death, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sarah Rogers (Mentioned) - Freeform, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18682879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourmalinex/pseuds/marvellingyou
Summary: Steve grieves his mother’s death.Did you get enough love, my little doveWhy do you cry?And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the bestThough it never felt right





	my fading supply

Steve hated the empty apartment he refused to call home. Not matter how hard he scrubbed himself off with soap, the hospital smell lingered. After he dried himself off, Steve stared at the mirror. Growing up, his mother would comment on how much he resembled his father. Judging from the few pictures she had, Steve could see some resemblance. But when it came to their neighbors’ opinion, Steve had his mother’s eyes. He loved resembling both of them, being a mosaic of his mother and father. But today, that love warped into regret, longing and anger. He never had his dad around—he died with honor before they could meet. And his ma… she didn’t deserve to die, to have her life taken as she took care of others in that god forsaken hospital. His stomach twisted at the thought.

As his jaw tightened, Steve balled his hand into a fist and threw a punch at his reflection, cracking the mirror as blood flowed freely from his knuckles. He pulled his hand back, this time, putting up both fists and continued to punch at the broken glass. Despite wincing at the sharp pain, Steve wanted to feel something— _ anything _ —other than the despair that scraped at his core.

He was angry that the doctors couldn’t help her.

He was angry that she tried to play off how much pain she felt.

He was angry at God for taking her instead of healing her.

But what pissed Steve off the most was that he couldn’t do anything for her. All he did was hold her hand as she died. He felt her soul leaving her frail body behind. The chill that traveled from her hand to his when she died had burned into his memory, into his  _ body _ . 

Steve’s chest heaved as his arms dropped to his sides. They became too heavy to lift anyhow. He didn’t bother to clean the mess—it’s not as if anyone was going to lecture him about it. Steve didn’t even care to bandage himself. 

“God  _ damn _ it,” he said through gritted teeth. Steve fell to his knees, his chest rising and falling heavily. 

A violent cry tore from his throat as he hunched over, rocking back and forth. Why couldn’t Steve take her place? He was already a sickly, poor pathetic excuse of a young man. He didn’t go a month without getting sick in one way or another. Was this some kind of punishment for surviving last year? For escaping the jaws of death? If Steve died then, would He have spared his mother? 

_O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee._ _And I detest my sins most sincerely because they displease Thee, my God, Who art so deserving of all my love_ —

“Steve?”

Steve froze. He couldn’t let Bucky see him in such a pitiful state. Although he attempted to wipe his face with the palms of his hands, it was too late. Bucky stood at the doorway, eyes wide open.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked as he knelt down next to Steve, careful not to touch the bloody shards scattered against the tile. At first, Steve merely shook his head. He didn’t want to talk. Or rather, the words refused to come out. 

“C’mon.” Bucky gulped. “You’re scarin’ me, Stevie. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Steve’s shoulders shook as his lips parted. “She’s dead, Buck,” he whispered. “She’s gone.”

When his gaze met Bucky’s, Steve could see his heart breaking. Without saying anything, Bucky pulls into a hug. “M’sorry, Steve.” He pressed his lips against the blonde’s forehead. 

“I-I still feel it.” Steve took in a deep breath. “They don’t tell you that. When you hold their hand, you… you feel ‘em  _ leave _ . I felt so cold, Bucky.” 

Bucky could only nod and rub Steve’s back in small circles. “I’m sorry. I shoulda been there with you.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s okay. You had work. You didn’t know.”

“But still.” Bucky kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry you were alone.” He took Steve’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips. Ignoring the cuts and blood, Bucky kissed each knuckle. Steve’s heart fluttered, his eyes welling up with tears yet again. There was something so accepting, so intimate about how Bucky treated him. Sure, they were close as kids, and they were comfortable around each other—especially now that they were going steady—but this was different. Normally, he hated being coddled. He was a grown man, damn it. He could handle scrapes and bruises. For now, however, Steve didn’t mind. This was so gentle, so  _ sweet _ and it was what he needed. 

“They’re gonna cremate her, bury her next to dad,” Steve murmured.

“Is that what you want?” Bucky asked. 

Steve shrugged. “As long as she’s next to dad.”

“Okay.” Bucky gave him another kiss on the cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t be runnin’ around with your hands like this. C’mon, get up.”

As they stood up, Steve kept his eyes on the floor, staring at the broken mirror that stared right back. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“Thank you.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand, squeezing gently. 

“Whaddya take me for?” Bucky grinned. “I’m not gonna let you go through this alone. We’re in it for the long haul.”

Although it was small, for the first time that day, Steve smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy y'all. While I already planned on writing this fic, which is based on the song [Fourth of July](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTeKpWp8Psw), I had a tough weekend. My mother passed away four years ago, so I was feeling many things and put what I felt in the fic. Sorry to be a bummer--though to be fair, a lot of Sufjan Stevens' songs are pretty depressing. 
> 
> Hope that this was enjoyable somehow.  
> Talk with me about Endgame on [tumblr](http://marvelling-you.tumblr.com)


End file.
